


High Tide

by chellerrific



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellerrific/pseuds/chellerrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He rocks her world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Tide

**Author's Note:**

> Because I’m still trying to work these two out.

A pair of hands shoved him roughly from behind. He fell into the dirt hard.

“Tag,” Demeter said, standing over him with a smirk. “You’re it.”

“It’s _tag_ , not _shove_ ,” Poseidon said, getting to his feet and brushing himself off.

“Sorry,” she said, clearly not sorry at all. With a shit-eating grin still plastered on her face, she turned and ran back into the trees, shouting, “Poseidon’s it!”

Grumbling, Poseidon covered his eyes and started counting. The palms of his hands stung where they’d hit the dirt to break his fall. When he reached είκοσι, he set off in search of retribution.

He deliberately kept walking past the tree in which he knew Hades was hidden. He stopped at a bush he saw moving, but it was only Zeus and Hera fooling around. They looked up at him, startled, but he was already back on the hunt.

He found himself in a field of tall wheat. She had to be hidden somewhere out here, he was absolutely sure of it; the problem was the field was huge, and as long as she stayed crouched down, she was effectively invisible.

He had been walking around hoping he’d just stumble across her for several minutes when a pair of hands grabbed him around the ankles and pulled him down into the wheat.

Before he could move, Demeter had turned him on his back and pinned him down by the shoulders.

“Tag?” he said weakly.

She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the lips, chaste but firm, then stood up and ran off, disappearing into the wheat once more.

* * *

They fumbled in the dark with knots and laces, their hard breathing the only soundtrack. A breast was freed, and Poseidon’s mouth found it.

Demeter gasped involuntarily. “This is,” she said, her voice mostly breath. “This is okay, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” Poseidon is, but there was a quaver in his voice. “Zeus and I do it all the time.”

Even in the dark, Demeter’s stare must have been perceptible.

“Not _with each other_ ,” he snapped. “With other people. Girls, usually. I like, um. Naiads.” His mouth found hers again, and there was a tearing sound as he tried to yank off something before it was ready. “Ah. Oops.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can mend it,” Demeter said, arching her body towards his. She wanted him then, badly, almost as much as he clearly wanted her.

At last they were free of the confines of their garments, and suddenly Poseidon was at a loss for what to do next.

“Where do I… that is…” He was blustering, grasping for anything to cover his ignorance.

Demeter didn’t care. She was as ignorant about these things as he was, but she knew her own body. She helped him find his way in, crying out when he did, nails still dirty from that day’s gardening digging into his back. She thought of waves. She was leaving solid ground behind, becoming fluid and insubstantial. She let herself go, giving in to him and all that he was, all that she never understood no matter how hard she tried.

But then it was over, before it ever really began. “Oh yeah,” he said drowsily. “I rocked your world.”

He hadn’t, really, of course, but she found she didn’t care. She felt happy and satisfied anyway. She laid her cheek against his chest and whispered, “I love you.”

For centuries afterward she would agonize over whether he was really asleep or only pretending. That was how long it took her to convince herself she didn’t care that he never responded.

* * *

“You hid from Poseidon as a _horse_?” Hera asked, shaking her head.

“I saw a flock of them—” Demeter tried to explain.

“Herd,” Hestia said. “I think.”

Demeter waved a hand dismissively. “I saw a _bunch_ of them grazing and just… didn’t think, I suppose.” She shrugged as if it couldn’t possibly have mattered less.

But a part of her _had_ been thinking.

A part of her had wanted him to find her.

A part of her was still pleased that he had.

* * *

Poseidon took another long drink of wine and turned to grin at his new bride. She smiled back shyly, as beautiful as the day he first saw her dancing in the firelight.

 _A king must have a queen_ , his mother had once said. And the moment he saw Amphitrite, he knew she would fill that role for him. He had tried to explain to Zeus just what it was that had drawn him to her. It wasn’t just that she was a knockout, though that had certainly helped. It was something about the way she was as laid-back (and here he’d gone off on a several minutes-long tangent about her _laying back_ ) and adaptable as he, but underneath, there was a hard edge to her, a toughness, “like an oyster turned inside out.” Zeus had laughed at him mercilessly for that clumsy analogy, but Poseidon thought it was pretty good considering how drunk he was.

All the same, though, his eyes kept finding their way back to Demeter. She looked good enough to ravish, and she knew it. But no matter how many times he looked at her, she was never looking back. Once he turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, but she was deep in conversation with Despoina and could have been completely unaware of his existence for all she seemed to acknowledge it.

Amphitrite reached over to take his hand, sensing his agitation. She was aware of his history of Demeter—it was impossible not to be, with his and Demeter’s daughter feasting with the rest of the wedding party, and her twin brother grazing contentedly not far from where they now sat. But she couldn’t begrudge either of them their pasts.

He glanced back at Demeter, but her seat was empty. She had slipped away without him realizing it.

It was time to settle old accounts.

He brushed a kiss across Amphitrite’s lips, excusing himself with the promise that he’d return shortly.

Demeter was staring out at the sunset, Zephyr’s gentle touch blowing her hair across her face.

“Enjoying yourself?” Poseidon asked, stepping up beside her.

“She’s lovely,” Demeter said. “You two will be very happy together.” She paused, thoughtfully. “Well. _You’ll_ be happy, anyway.”

He nudged her with his elbow, but she stayed steady as always. “I already am.”

A silence fell over them then.

“Look, I…” he said at last, heavily and uncertainly.

“Don’t,” she cut him off. “This isn’t what I wanted, not for us anyway.”

“Amphitrite… she’s not second place,” he said carefully.

A hint of a smirk played on Demeter’s lips. “Poseidon, you think entirely too much of yourself if you think I’ve been pining after you all this time. You’ll note this comes as absolutely no surprise to me.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe I did want this for us, once. But that was a long time ago, before I realized it would be the worst idea in history.”

“Worst? Not the _worst_ , surely.”

They regarded each other for a moment.

“Yeah, you’re right, it really would be,” Poseidon relented.

Demeter nodded. “It takes more than sex to build a marriage. No matter how fantastic that sex might be.”

“It was pretty fantastic.”

“You should go back to her,” Demeter said, nodding towards the feast.

Poseidon nodded. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and planted a kiss on her cheek. “See you round, Deo.”

“Enjoy married life.” There was a glint in her eye, that old mocking glint he knew so well, one that suggested chains and monotony, things she herself was determined to remain free of.

He turned and went back to his wife, not regretting his choices at all.

* * *

They broke apart, sweaty and out of breath and tangled in sheets.

“Mm,” Poseidon muttered sleepily. “Did I rock your world or what.”

Demeter shivered with pleasure. “You desperately need a new line.”

He sat up and winked at her as he began to dress. “Only for you, babe. Just remember, they don’t call me the Earth-Shaker for nothing.”

She watched him go, back to his undersea palace and his wife. He was the tide and she the shore. They kept crashing together as inevitably as they drew apart again each time. And she was okay with that. It worked for them.

Besides, she could only take so many earthquake puns at a go before she had to recharge her bullshit tolerance. It would take a while before she was ready for him once more, but when she was, she had no doubt they’d meet again as always.


End file.
